Curse
by PenCorp
Summary: Sasuke tells us a story. The angry child manifestation of him is horrified. And Naruto watches, which is strangely unlike him. Oneshot.


_Curse_ - 1318

"You don't know what a real curse is, and I can say that with a surprising amount of conviction, because I'm you anyway." Sasuke stared at the angry little version of himself, half sorry and half disgusted by the brief moment in time that was him. He winced at the blistering throb from the burnt ends of his fingertips. It hurt a lot, but Sasuke figured he'd do the same thing again and again, as long as it protected his precious person.

Calmly, he flicked his eyes over the other shadowed occupants of the room. A younger Kakashi, even though it wasn't noticeable, because he'd always been ageless anyway. A surprisingly contemplative Naruto, who was standing at mini-version Sasuke's side like he'd always done, and continued to do so now. He wasn't sure what to call "now" though, because technically it was a "then," but he decided such things weren't worth his aggravation. Anyway, there was the pink haired kunoichi and her teacher leaning against the wall, both mega-bitches with an axe to grind, but worthy opponents and friends, as he'd come to define it.

Sasuke felt soft blue eyes watch him sadly, as if they knew how much it cost him to be so frank. If only the bite-me version of himself knew how much it cost.

"You're going to be fine you know. All your dreams will come true, Itachi's dead and life is sweet. You carve out his eyes with your very own fingers and you cry tears of angsty angstiness because his death doesn't quite solve the underlying problem." Here he paused, watching the play of emotions (because only Sasuke and two other people in the room could read him so well) cross little-Sasuke's face. He grinned in perverse satisfaction. "You have another dream anyway, so we won't dive to deeply into such pools. Family's always a touchy subject in'it Sasuke-kun?"

"So you marry some cute 'lil thing, one you know has good blood, and since everyone wants to be part of reviving the great Uchiha clan, because lets face it, there's only two people in the village who have the Sharingan and you have the Mangekyo which makes you a prize dog, well, as you can guess, marriage is easy as buying milk. You have your unfrozen assets, which you can get down on your perfect knees and thank the Godaime for, so your pretty 'lil wife will want for nothing. She'll pop out a couple pups. Seventy-percent (because your perfect and would calculate the odds of a blood-trait you asshole) will develop the Sharingan."

Here Sasuke paused again, and couldn't help motioning his mini-double forward like he was about to reveal a great secret.

"Of course," he began to the glowering face before him, "you'll dote on the ones who get it. Son's especially, because you were raised that way and your just a prick like that. Sasuke says he's a prick and most of the Kohona population agree with him, in fact...I'll bet you think these are just bitter old ramblings and that you'll never be me, but see, I know you will, because I was you. See?"

He reached out a bandaged finger and poked a bare forehead, because, surprisingly enough, even young-version him knew where to draw the line. Young-version him wasn't officially Kohona property yet, because who wants the dog that might just dig a hole and run away? Then perhaps come back to piss on said owner's lawn gnomes?

Certainly not future Sasuke, who was sitting on a fold out chair with a cup of cold coffee on the floor beside him. Future Sasuke had enough of his own problems, without dogs pissing and scampering all over the place.

"Anyway, you'll get old with wrinkles, if your fortunate enough not to die before retirement shinobi age, which I heard they've pushed to seventy-nine currently." He glanced towards his teammate, who affirmed this with a nod. "Yes, seventy-nine. Not much longer for you huh, Kakashi?" Sasuke laughed at the finger he got for his trouble, but the laughter seemed to stop everyone's breath. He almost forgot such things were not Uchiha like - as if he cared what a bunch of dead sister-rapers had done anyway. And if he believed that, Sasuke decided, he truly would be a bitter old man at twenty-five.

"So your old, Sasuke, and you have cute little grand kids. Your pretty happy, because you set out to do what you planned to do and it was a success, and you like success don't you? I should now, because I'm you, after all."

He was quiet for a long time, trying to find the little bit of courage he realized had been lagging for a while. Naruto's hand found it's way to his shoulder and he was silently thankful for the small, but fiercely needed contact. It only got harder from here.

"And this is the dream, or the nightmare if you wish it, because with the Sharingan you have so many nightmares anyway. Images caught in the heavy dilution of red, as people scream demon in the dark and what are you but a demon? Born or granted, a clan is a curse. What they give you is a curse. Anyway...You wake up on a wet fall night, your joints complaining because the cold settles in creaky places where kunai and shuriken found flesh at one time. It hurts so you decide to stretch things you'd long ago used without thinking. It's dark, and you wonder, you wonder, dammit why's it so dark? It's never so dark, not in the Uchiha complex not since your youth when everyone died, and no one was there to light the night lights."

Sasuke felt the painful blisters ten times worse as he gripped the material of his pants, caught in a premonition of his own making.

"You step in blood, and god dammit why's it so dark, and have you really given birth to insanity? Have you planted the seeds of a doomed clan, only to doom them again because you didn't realize, because you're an idiot, because you wanted that little bit of home you'd been missing? Chicken, weakling, foolish little brother."

He watched as the pale little version of himself didn't blink, or swallow, or even whimper because he saw the visage of his sibling before him, except it wasn't, not really. Perhaps it was just an absence of the right kindling to ignite an insanity that rivaled the prodigy Uchiha. _Nii-san._

Maybe Sasuke was lucky, because Naruto was there to pull him back, and Itachi had no one. Nothing. Not even his little brother, only his little brother the executioner, because in a way, Itachi knew he had to die for what he did. Maybe he wanted to, Sasuke thought, opening his mouth to finish his grim oration.

"You see him. After all the familiar blood and carnage and bodies that you mix up in your head and you wonder if your not really eight again instead of eighty. You see him. Your favorite. Your favorite grandson, because your sick and twisted like that to your grandchildren, doing to them what had been done to you. Your favorite grandson, tomoe whirling with sick fanaticism as he yells about blood and sticks and worthiness. He killed your daughter, your other sons. His sword's all red and all you can think is oh god I'm sorry why didn't I think that insanity was inside me, part of me? Why did I ever fucking think I could live my life in the blunt narrow-ism of two consecutive dreams? Your dreams mean NOTHING kid and you can believe me - "

"_-because I'm you._" Whispered a horrified mini-version Sasuke, shaking just a little at the red eyes glaring straight into his soul. They had all four, all four, and little-Sasuke wondered if big Sasuke had the mangekyo too.

"_Because I'm you_." Future Sasuke agreed.


End file.
